I decided that this was a great idea, seeing as it
puts two of my obsessions- Titanic and So You Think You Can Dance-
together. For those of you who watch the show: great! For those of
you who don't: still great! It doesn't really matter.

I don't own show or movie. Also don't own
"I would walk 500 Miles" by Less Than Jake.

--

Jack Dawson didn't
let on to anyone that he was nervous. He showed off to all the other
people around him, and stood around talking. Some dancers were
amazing, and some were plain weird, and the people who encouraged
them obviously felt bad for them. All were there for the same reason,
however; they were all enduring the freezing cold of Chicago,
Illinois, to try out for So You Think You Can Dance. Once the
doors were open, the dancers rushed eagerly inside, talked to the
people at a desk, filled out a form, and got numbers. Jack was
rubbing his hands together; it seemed even colder than Chippewa
Falls, Wisconsin (his hometown), today.

Now there was nothing
to do but wait. At least they were inside. He chatted with his best
friend, Fabrizio De Rossi, and other people. Fabri was just here for
support, because, in his words, he 'couldn't dance worth a damn'.
Nice of him to come, Jack mused, as he watched a girl sink into the
splits and be pulled up by her partner. It was all he could do to
keep from barfing. He couldn't dance like that worth a damn.

Jack did break dancing
and hip-hop, but he had trained a little in most other styles. Still,
it was a struggle not to empty his innards onto the floor. All he
could do was wait, and that was the single last thing he liked doing.

One by one the dancers
were called into the audition room. Some came out with a ticket, some
came out in tears and rage, screaming at the cameras what a bastard
Nigel Lythgoe was. Some didn't come out at all, but awaited the
choreography round that would determine which of the two they'd be.

The line in front of
him got shorter and shorter, until Jack thought his heart would thud
out of his chest or stop completely. Fabri had noticed that his
friend was quieter, and slowly worked Jack out of the conversation he
was having so he could think. One person to go kept ringing
through his mind.

Sighing and gathering
up his courage, he walked in the room as the girl before him sobbed
her eyes out for the camera to see.

Sitting at a judge's
table were Nigel Lythgoe, Mary Murphy, and Mia Michaels. Behind them
was an audience of chairs with dancers sitting in some of them,
waiting for the end of the day where they'd have to learn
choreography fast, and see if they could stomach it. One girl caught
Jack's eye. She had vibrant red curls and a pale face that stood
out from the rest of them. She was gorgeous. She was talking to the
woman next to her, but when he walked in, she looked up. He caught
her eye, and she looked back after looking away.

"Jack Dawson, from
Wisconsin, right?" Mia said.

"Yeah," he
replied, jerking his attention back to the judges' table.

"How long have you
been dancing?"

"Probably since I
was about two or three. Can't exactly remember."

"And you're
nineteen, right?"

"Yeah," he said
again.

"Okay… Que Music!"
shouted Nigel.

"I Would Walk 500
Miles" came blaring through the speakers. Jack gave it his all. He
forgot that he had planned the choreography; the moves felt like they
came to him in that moment. He 'charmed' Mary during the chorus
by breaking for a moment, and 'serenading' her. By the time he
was asked to stop, he was completely breathless, but exhilarated.
Mary was still smiling from when he 'sung' to her.

"That was great,"
said Mia enthusiastically, "You really know how to impress people.
I think those were amazing moves, and you put them together
perfectly."

Mary next. For a few
seconds she grappled with words, then said, "You're amazing. I
don't think there's anything else to it."

Nigel was silent for a
few seconds. Those few seconds carried on into eternity, it seemed.
Jack was more nervous than he had been a few minutes ago, standing
outside. "We have a great dancer standing here before us."

Jack grinned. His
friends had told him he was good, but it meant more that
choreographers were telling him that. His friends didn't know what
it meant to him.

"That flip off the
floor must have taken a lot of practice. That needs arms,"
commented Nigel, on one of his moves which included propelling
himself off the floor with his arms.

"Yeah, it did. Took
me months to get strong enough."

"Well, it's a yes
from me."

"Yeeeees!!"

"Absolutely."

"Well, it paid off,
Jack, cause you're going to Vegas!" Mary yelled.

The people still
waiting for their fates to be decided cheered. Jack ran off stage to
get his ticket, and ran out of the room.

Fabrizio hugged his
best friend when he came out of the room jumping around like a
madman.

--

Sitting in the
audience, Rose DeWitt Bukator watched him leave, thinking how much
better he was.

Being a ballet,
ballroom, and recently contemporary dancer, her audition had been
less… loud. Her mother had barely let her do a contemporary dance
for her audition, but eventually she had given in. The routine had
been smooth and graceful, littered with spins and going on point,
briefly. Yet the judges hadn't been entirely sure, and now she
could see why.

Jack Dawson inspired
her. He seemed so confident and carefree, two qualities she didn't
really possess. But she wanted this so much. Hopefully the judges
would be more convinced after the choreography round.

By the time the end of
the day came, Rose was so nervous she never thought she'd be able
to dance at all. Yet she learned the piece, and executed it to the
best of her ability, with a new energy as she remembered Jack Dawson.

When she was called
before the judges again, Nigel said, "That was much better. You
have just proved to us that you deserve to go to Las Vegas." It
slowly dawned on her what this meant. "Come get your ticket,
darling." She obeyed, hardly realizing what she was holding. A
ticket to L.A. A ticket out of her current life. A ticket into her
new one. She hugged Mia Michaels, who had given it to her, without
thinking. Then she rushed out the door, hoping that Jack Dawson would
be in this new life of hers.

Outside, dancers were
rejoicing and crying with their friends and families. Rose felt a
stab at her heart when she remembered no one was there for her. Her
friends had school and couldn't come, and her mother, not really
approving of her trying out for something like this, had refused to
show up. Even her fiancé, Caladan Hockley, hadn't bothered.
If it displeased Ruth, he didn't like it either. It's
wonderful to have a supportive family, Rose thought bitterly as
she flipped open her cell phone and speed-dialed her house.

"Hello?" Ruth
DeWitt Bukator sounded harried, as though she had better things to do
than talk to her daughter.

"Hey, mom? I made
it." Her mother, trying to sound happy, congratulated her. The
truth was, Rose didn't want to be congratulated by the mother that
was forcing her to marry a man like Cal. All her life she had not
been able to do what she wanted. This was her small way of breaking
the tethers that had bound her down her whole life. And her mother
wouldn't be happy about that in the slightest.

"In Las Vegas I'm
going to be dancing with other guys. Tell Cal not to be offended."
When her mother made a noise of disgust, Rose replied, "Don't
worry, mother, nothing will happen. I'm coming home tonight to pack
more stuff, and then I'm taking a plane to Vegas. Bye." Rose
slowly closed her cell phone. Eighteen, and she was already engaged
to be married. Some of her friends didn't even date. Rose would
prefer parents who were obsessive about their kid not dating until
twenty to one psychotic mother who still believed nobility and higher
classes existed. Her father had left them about a year before,
leaving behind a bunch of debts that had to be paid, and taking all
the money with him. He hadn't been heard from since. Ruth had
quickly engaged Rose to Cal, for he would pay their debts. Rose would
have gladly gotten a job, but Ruth didn't want her darling daughter
working like a peasant. Often, mostly when Rose complained about Cal
and what a jerk he was, Ruth would remind her that they had no money,
and were too above work to get it back any other way. At these times,
Rose pondered why her mother was acting so selfish. If she cared so
much about money, she should marry Cal. He was almost her age,
anyway…

Slowly, she walked
back to the hotel she had stayed in the night before, packed, and
checked out. She then went to a train station and caught a train for
home. She kept dozing off, and jerking herself awake so she wouldn't
miss her stop. She got home late, and no one was awake for her.
Loneliness stabbed at her heart but she refused to give in to it.
Exhausted, Rose made her way up to her room and collapsed on her bed,
fully clothed.

--

Please review and tell me if you like this
story! It's not much of a story yet, but it'll get better.
Hopefully.

-Arnold-

The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.